


March/April Tumblr drabbles

by Nutriyum_Addict



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Camping, Childbirth, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Political Campaigns, Pregnancy, Roleplay, Sick Character, Table Sex, Taxes, Workplace, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:46:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6209473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutriyum_Addict/pseuds/Nutriyum_Addict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of tumblr drabbles posted in March and April 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rules for campign interaction at work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you message back and forth with bookwom03 about Leslie and Ben being adorable and oblivious horn monsters (oops) and then next thing you know, you are typing furiously and writing a silly drabble.
> 
> THIS IS THAT DRABBLE.

It’s not like it happens that often.

Okay, so even _once_ is probably too often to have sex with her campaign manager at her campaign headquarters even if it was during a long and stressful day and they were in his bedroom. Because…the volunteers were still all there, right on the other side of his closed bedroom door and she’d had to moan into his pillow to keep everything quiet and respectable and professional.

And, alright, once is bad enough but three times (in the past two weeks that Ben has her campaign manager) is probably incredibly inappropriate, Leslie reasons, all as she checks out his flat and perfectly squeezable butt on the other side of the kitchen.

Right. Exactly. So, in conclusion, three times during proper work hours is just not acceptable and because of that, Leslie has spent the morning coming up with a binder called, RULES FOR CAMPAIGN INTERACTION AT WORK and it’s now time to present these new guidelines to her direct report.

“Mr. Wyatt?”

Ben spins around and looks at her all confused. “What?” His nose wrinkles up a bit more. “Why are you call–-”

“Please come here, I’d like a word with you.”

He’s still making a face when he sits down at the chair across from her in the empty kitchen. There are no volunteers around today and both April and Andy are at City Hall until at least five-thirty, so they have the house to themselves for their meeting.

“Mr. Wyatt. It has come to my attention that you have a very tempting frame, much like a sexy elf king.”

His eyes narrow a bit at her. “What is happening?”

“We’re having our first campaign meeting on…” Leslie holds the binder up for him to see, “inappropriate behavior at work.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. We can’t…do certain things at work. While we are at work. Here. At campaign headquarters.”

“Okay,” Ben nods. “This is probably a good plan.”

“Yes,” Leslie agrees and opens the binder. “Like this here, we need to limit our physical interactions to…firm handshakes and maybe a congratulatory pat on the shoulder.”

“That sounds sensible,” he says, as he grins and holds his hand out. When she takes it, he says, “good idea, Ms. Knope.”

But then he kind of brushes his thumb against her skin in a slow and teasing way and Leslie frowns at him, yanking her hand away.

“What?”

“You know what. Your thumb was being all sexy. Stop that.”

“Sorry. Um,” Ben makes a face like he’s trying not to laugh. “Am I in trouble now?”

She starts smiling too. “Well, that depends.”

“On what?” he asks, scooting his chair closer so he can bring his face right up to hers.

They’re grinning and about to touch noses, when Leslie’s eyes widen. “Ben! I mean, MR. WYATT! No. This is…completely unacceptable campaign behavior.”

“Right. Sorry. Okay, um, what other rules are there?”

“Okay, so. Let’s see,” she starts, beginning to get a little flustered at the way he’s staring at her. “No kissing. No hugging. And absolutely no oral sex.”

Ben snorts. “Really? You go from kissing and hugging right to…oral sex?”

“Do I have to remind you of the incident last week? When we were looking for some extra campaign buttons in the coat closet?”

Of course, there were no extra buttons in the closet but Ben had given her a quick kiss which turned into a long hug, which turned into her dragging him into the closet and getting down on her knees about ten seconds later. And also _crap on a crouton_ , she had completely forgot to count the oral sex in her list of three inappropriate interactions.

But now, her campaign manager gives her a very knowing grin. “Point taken.”

“Right. So, yes, as I was saying. We need to limit our physical contact to after-hours only. And yes, I know campaign headquarters is also your place of residence, but between the hours of eight AM and five PM, we are all business, buddy. You got that?” she asks, and then adds a flirty, “Mr. Wyatt,” onto the end.

“Yes, Ms. Knope. I’ve got that,” he assures her and there’s just enough of _hardass fascist Ben_ in his response to make her insides feel all fluttery. “Have you…got that?”

“I do. No kissing or hugging or oral sex,” she says firmly.

“Right. And no sexy touching or inappropriate glances.”

“During work hours,” Leslie clarifies.

“Right. Like, I shouldn’t reach out and run my hand against you or anything.”

Now Leslie scoots her chair closer. “What do you mean? You know, just so we’re clear.”

“Well, Ms. Knope, it would be very wrong for me to reach out and run the back of my fingers over your…chestal region.”

“What if it was an accident?”

“No, no accident. I mean like this,” he says and the reaches forward and slowly slides the back of his fingers down the slope of her breast, making her nipple harden and her body shiver in response. “That would not be allowed under the new rules, right?”

“Exactly. Yes. No. I mean, no. None of that during campaign hours, Mr. Wyatt. Or, you might face disciplinary action.”

“Right. I’m sure I would not enjoy that,” he says with just a small smirk and a contradictory nod of his head.

Ben reaches forward and puts his hands on her thighs. “Ms. Knope, I probably should also avoid touching you below the waist, right? I mean just so I know for sure what-–”

She starts kissing Mr. Wyatt (god, _that_ is so sexy), before the words are even all out of his perfect, rule-breaking mouth.

It’s a hot forceful kiss that turns sweet and soft the longer it goes on. And then she’s sitting on the kitchen table without pants on (how the hell did that even happen?) and Ben’s lips are around a bare nipple, his tongue teasing her, all while her hand slides slowly over his dick.

It’s right after he pushes inside and her legs are wrapped around him, that Leslie asks, “We’re having sex on top of the binder, aren’t we?”

Ben looks down and then kind of nods and laughs, before thrusting into her even deeper.

“ _Motherfucker_.”


	2. Ben trying to take care of Leslie via Skype

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompts: I don't know if you're taking requests, but I thought I'd give it a try. I have been craving a sick Ben fic. Maybe when Leslie is pregnant, and Ben feels terrible that he can't help take care of her like he wants. Anything at all would be wonderful! Thank you so much! :)
> 
> AND
> 
> i was wondering if there was any possible way to extend that?! i'd love to read more of that one! I loved your tag saying that Ben woke up with Leslie spooned around him, and i just really want this story to go on a bit longer!

“Are you doing okay?” Leslie asks.

Ben studies his wife’s sleepy and concerned face from his laptop’s screen.

Honestly, he kind of feels completely like crap with a stuffed up nose and a sore throat and now he feels even worse, just knowing that he can’t be upstairs and be taking care of her like he wants to—that he’s the one that she’s tying to make sure is doing alright.

“I’m okay,” he assures her. “Are you okay?”

She smiles at him. “Honey, I’m fine. I’m pregnant and just upstairs, I’m not incapacitated and in Bermuda and being held for ransom by pirates.”

He laughs at her choice of words, thinking that when he gets better, that’s probably going to be a thing. Ben briefly wonders if his role will be kidnapping pirate or rescuer?

Maybe he’ll be a recently kidnapped ship captain, whom she manages to rescue during her daring escape? Either way, he’s pretty sure it’ll end in boning.

But now…now he’s sequestered himself down here in their guest room.

Of all the times to get a cold, right when Leslie is pregnant with triplets and stressed out and starting a new job. And coming up with new and interesting role-play scenarios.

“And you ate some ve-ee-eg…” Ben starts to ask but then trails off as he sneezes loudly and then moans at the pressure that suddenly explodes throughout his head. “Vegetables, right? Even though I wasn’t out there to watch you do it?

“Yes,” Leslie groans, making a face.

“Really? ”

“Yes. Yes. I promise. I ate some of the chicken soup I made for you earlier and if you remember, there were even carrots in there,” Leslie says with a smirk.

“And you swallowed?”

Leslie starts giggling and raises an eyebrow at him.

“I meant the carrots, you pervert,” he gets out, before trying to laugh starts a new fit of coughing.

Leslie’s face goes from amused to concerned as she watches worriedly from the screen, sitting up a bit more in their bed. “Oh, babe. Do you want me to come downstairs and–”

“No. No. Stay there. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“And you’re sure you want to stay in the guest room all night? I got a flu shot last month, remember? It’s probably fine to–”

Ben shakes his head as he sniffles again. “Nope. I’m contagious with whatever this is and you’re four months pregnant. I really don’t want to take any chances. It’s fine down here. Even if this is the room where you apparently hid your birdhouse and old newspaper collections.”

She ignores that and asks, “But who’s going to take care of you?”

“I can take care of myself for a couple of days.”

“But you’re sick and when you’re sick you get…a little _needy_ , honey.”

He tries to look offended even though she’s kind of right, he does get a little needy when he’s not feeling well. And yet, “I am not needy,” Ben insists.

“Oh, so you don’t need me at all then?“ She teases.

“I absolutely need you and I would love it if you could tuck me into our big bed and play with my hair until I fall asleep,” he says, as she smiles at him from the screen. Then Ben adds, looking around the room, “and pick up all my used tissues. But…”

“Right. You’re going to stay down there until you’re better.”

“Yes. And I’m just downstairs so if there’s some sort of emergency, I’m still here in the house.”

He had actually wanted to go stay at April and Andy’s or even Tom’s while he got over this cold, but apparently, no one was that interested in having a face-leaking and coughing temporary roommate. And then Leslie had talked him into just taking over the downstairs guest room/craft room and its attached bathroom.

So, here he is, in bed at ten o'clock at night and feeling miserable and stuffed up. But, at least he’s still at home and near her.

“You look so tired, ” she tells him, “Do you want to switch to the phone and talk until we fall asleep? Like we did when you were in DC?”

Ben pulls the covers back up to his chin and grabs his cell phone off the bedside table.“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

 * * * * *

When they finally hang up, Leslie stretches out on the bed and lies diagonally, taking up as much room as possible (which, sure, isn’t much, but she tries). It should be a luxury but…it’s not). The bed seems too big without Ben next to her and even though he’s just downstairs, she misses him.

She’s sure the babies do as well.

He didn’t kiss her stomach goodnight like he’s done every other night in bed since that first time, when she had first told him she was pregnant.

Plus, she’s worried about him too.

Maybe she should just peek in at him?

It’s not like she’s going to go down there and French him or pick up his used tissues (gross), so it’s fine. Leslie would never take any chances with the babies, which is exactly why she got a flu shot in the first place.

When she opens the door downstairs slowly and quietly, Ben is on his back, eyes closed, in a pair of flannel pajamas. He’s snoring loudly–poor baby is all stuffed up. When she gets closer, she pulls the covers up around him a bit, but when she puts her hand against his forehead, he’s all warm… _very_ warm.

Leslie frowns and then goes to the guest bathroom, getting a washcloth and running it under cool water. When she gets back to the bedroom, she gently places it on Ben’s forehead.

Then she reconsiders and pulls it off again, so she can brush her lips there first.

She almost turns to leave and go back upstairs, but…maybe she should just stay down here for a few minutes? Just to make sure he’s okay.

Yeah. That’s a good idea. A sensible idea. Sensible like putting carrots in the chicken soup for dinner (and then mostly scooping around them when she ladled out her own bowl).

Since he’s fevery, Leslie doesn’t want to make him feel hotter, so she just lies next to him, reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair a little.

Yeah, she’ll just stay for a few minutes to make sure he’s okay.

* * * * *

When Ben first wakes up, he’s confused.

There’s a damp washcloth over his eyes and an arm around his waist that isn’t his. He wiggles back a little and he hears Leslie sigh in her sleep.

“Babe?” He whispers, pulling the washcloth away so he can see. When she doesn’t answer, he tries saying her name a little louder.

“Hmmmmm. April, no, don’t paint the cabbage,” his wife mumbles sleepily, hugging him tighter.

“Leslie,” he tries again.

This must work, because she seems to move back a little, waking up. The she says, “Hey, hi. How do you feel?”

The bed shifts a little as she sits up behind him.

“Why are you down here?”

“Oh. Well, I wanted to check on you last night and I got sleepy.”

“Leslie, this isn’t–”

“Honey, it’s okay. I know you worry and that’s so sweet of you, but we’re fine. You didn’t breathe on me or anything. You’re sick and I want to take care of you.”

Ben’s quiet for a few seconds, just enjoying the feeling of Leslie spooning around him. His resolve is kind of weak when he’s sick. And fine, he’s also kind of needy.

He just feels better when she’s around him too.

“This is probably okay,” he agrees finally.

“Good. How do you feel?”

“Better, I think.”

Ben feels her reach up and try to get a hand on his forehead. Sure, she hits him in the nose first but then she finds her target.

“You’re still warm, I’ll get you some aspirin.”

“Mmmmm, not yet. Just cuddle me for a few more minutes, please.”


	3. April Fools Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Since we know how much Ben likes surprises and pranks, maybe a short fic or drabble about Leslie pulling an April Fool's joke on him? Or... maybe he's trying to prank her, but it goes about as well as his "follow to me" attempted prank on April, Donna and Andy?

**April 1, 2015:**

He’s half awake when he stumbles into the bathroom at six in the morning.

Unbelievably, Leslie is still in bed, which would seem weird but they’d been dealing with three cranky four-and-a-half month old babies practically all night. Crying and fussing until two in the morning and now Ben feels so sleep-deprived he can barely stay awake while peeing, but finally his eyes slowly adjust.

He looks around groggily and–

Ben blinks.

He squints.

His mouth falls open as his eyes zero in on one particular item on the bathroom counter.

Is that a…?

He finishes what he’s doing, flushes, and slowly walks closer and closer, a panicky pit forming in his stomach as he quickly washes his hands.

Ben picks up the pregnancy test and looks at it confusedly.

How could… But they… How…what…is he having a nightmare?

He’s pretty sure his mouth is still hanging open when he stumbles back into the bedroom and climbs into bed, all while holding the plastic stick in his hand. He pokes Leslie gently (but insistently) with his other hand until she wakes.

“What? What? Who’s crying?” His wife asks, sitting up quickly and looking as exhausted as he feels.

“Me,” Ben answers. “Honey, you’re pregnant again?”

“What?”

“You’re pregnant?” He asks again, staring at her.

“I am?” Leslie looks confused and then she starts laughing when she sees the test. “Oh my god, I forgot all about that!”

“You forgot you were pregnant? How long? I mean how did this even…” he shakes his head. “Condoms. Breast-feeding? How–”

“Sorry, sorry! Happy April Fools Day!”

“What?”

“It’s April first, babe. That was going to be a prank. Sorry. I forgot all about it. The thing with the babies last night just wiped me out but–”

“Alright. Wait. Please just answer this very important question. _Are you pregnant?_ ”

“No.” She shakes her head for emphasis and gives him a pitying look.

“Then who peed on this stick?” Ben asks very seriously, holding the device out farther away from his body.

“I did,” she tells him, trying not to laugh.

Ben makes a face and shakes his head. “I don’t–”

“It’s from the triplets. I just took it out of the scrapbook last night and sneakily planted it in the bathroom earlier. That’s all. I promise.”

“Oh thank god. I think I almost had a heart attack,” he gives her a look, still not able to quite relax yet. “Happy April Fools Day, you almost killed your husband,” Ben deadpans.

“Honey. Honey, you’re okay,” Leslie says softly, taking the pregnancy test from him and putting it over on the bedside table. She rubs his back, leans closer and kisses his temple. “It was just a joke. No more babies for awhile.”

“No more babies,” Ben says. “We have so many babies. Beautiful, wonderful, noisy, expensive babies that I love with all my heart but we really have enough babies.”

“Maybe just one more?”

“No. No. No. Three is enough.”

“What’s that? Five is enough? Good plan, we’ll do twins next!”

“I love you so much but please don’t even joke about this,” Ben requests, pulling her back down into bed.

“Crap. I forgot to cancel the singing telegram and the baby-themed cake delivery. Okay, when that happens later, just remember that I love you and that I’m not really pregnant,” Leslie says, cuddling up to Ben and kissing his neck.

“Seriously?”


	4. Paris

Leslie throws the Li'l Sebastian t-shirt on in the bathroom (the _one_ thing she packed that really reminds her of Pawnee), but not before she notices what looks like the result of eating over two dozen macarons over the last four days. Frowning, she lifts the well-worn material up over her hips again and studies where her belly is swelled out just a tiny bit.

She turns to the side.

Yep, that’s definitely and extra pound or two even with all of the walking that they’ve been doing in Paris.

All of the patisseries and cafes here are just too tempting–there’s one on every street corner practically! How is she not supposed to go in and buy a chocolate croissant or a macaron (or four) at each one? And because the purpose of this surprise trip abroad is her husband’s attempt to get her mind off being recalled, it’s not like Ben is trying to stop her.

Nope. He’s just being a sexy, agreeable little chocolate croissant enabler.

So…they walk the picturesque city blocks, but then stop frequently to buy croissants and cafe au laits and sit outside, people-watching and kissing in between bites. It’s all very Parisian.

Before she pulls the shirt down again, Leslie imagines what it would look like if she were pregnant, rather than just on a four-day sweets binge. Because, yeah, they kind of talked about that (seriously talked about that) over dinner last night, holding hands while scooping out spoonfuls of a luscious Grand Marnier soufflé.

Ben had rubbed his thumb back and forth against a small patch of skin on her hand and said he wanted to start a family, that he was ready if she was. Leslie had smiled back and said she wanted that too.

So…that’s a new project to start working on when they get back home.

And sure, she still feels a little stressed out and yes, transition is probably never going to be easy, but Leslie no longer feels like the whole world is closing in on her. She’s closed her eyes, taken a few deep breaths, and has decided to listen to the people that love her–Ben, Ann, Ron, April, Andy, Donna, Tom, and Chris. Even Jerry. She’s not going to focus on being recalled anymore, but on what really matters.

But also? She’s going to make out all over Paris with her warm and delicious chocolate croissant of a husband for four more days.

“Babe! Get out here!”

Leslie pushes the t-shirt down and resists the urge to wipe at the post-sex wetness between her thighs one more time. Like the way she can still feel him inside her and the way her lips look all red and well-kissed in the mirror, it’s a comforting feeling despite the slight mess.

When she opens the door, Ben is looking ready for bed in his pajama pants and a t-shirt, but he’s staring at the now-on TV. He gives her an excited look and when she walks over next to him, she starts laughing at the screen.

“Is that–”

“ _Designing Women_ dubbed in French? Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Oh my god, we have to watch this,” Leslie tells him, taking his hand and leading him back to the bed.

“I know! That’s why I called you out here,” he says with a sleepy grin.

They kiss before getting into bed and when his hands wander down to cup and squeeze her bare ass it makes her giggle against his warm lips. Ben tastes like chocolate and home–-two of the very things that matter most.


	5. Sleek Sexy Gazelles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Can you write about Leslie being insecure with her pregnant body so Ben tries to make her feel better and they end up having sex?

Sleek, sexy gazelles.

Every single model that had walked past them at the Sweetums Foundation Charity Fashion Show had been a sleek, sexy, brunette gazelle with young, perky breasts and a tight, perfect ass.

Now back at home, Leslie looks in the bathroom mirror and she studies her maternity pajamas, the ones with little whales on the pants (she used to think that was funny when she first bought the set at _Frocked Up_ last month). And she takes in her blonde, very non-brunette hair and her _growing-by-the-minute_ breasts and the babies’ bump which now at five-and-a-half months, is roughly the size of a small park.

Of course, she knows this is a mix of being tired and a little achy and alright, very hormonal and maybe a teeny-tiny bit irrational, but did every single model tonight have to be tailor-made to Ben’s type?

“Babe? You okay?” Her husband's voice questions through the closed master bathroom door.

“Yeah, I um…I’ll be out in a minute.”

Maybe if she put some lipstick on? Red would go with the bright cherry-colored spaghetti strap sleep top but…no. Red lipstick with whale pajama pants is not sexy…she doesn’t even need smart and beautiful, sexy-expert Ann Perkins to tell her that.

Leslie sighs.

When she opens the door, Ben is getting into bed in a dark blue t-shirt and a pair of black boxer briefs that make his butt look tight and perfect.

She sighs again.

His perfect ass probably wants another perfect ass and with twenty-five extra pounds on her, Leslie definitely does not have a perfect ass.

“Hey, what is going on? You’ve been super quiet all night. And sighing a lot.”

“Nothing. Nothing is going on,” she tells him, walking quickly to the bed. “Not a thing. Goodnight, fine sir,” Leslie yawns exaggeratedly as she pulls the covers up to her chin.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were so tired. You should have said something. We could have left...”

She scoffs as he trails off. Right. Like he would have wanted to come home early and leave all the sexy brunette gazelles with all the perky breasts.

“What?” Ben looks at her. “What sexy gazelles? Perky breasts?”

Crap. Why does she always do that? She gets upset and then says things out loud when she thinks they’re just in her head and–

“Why are you upset?”

He’s just staring at her, and seriously? He really has no idea?

“Oh my god, Ben! I’m a beached whale! I’m huge and all the women at the show tonight were these tall brunette goddesses and my pajama pants have whales on them and the other pair I bought has cupcakes and neither is sexy and I’m sorry you have to sleep with me!” She takes a gulp of air as he stares at her.

“Uh. What is happening?”

“You heard me. I’m short and huge and you like tall brunettes and goodnight!” To emphasize her words, Leslie pulls the covers up over hear head.

Ben uncovers her seconds later. “Honey, tall and brunette is not my type.”

“Chris said it was.”

He looks like he’s both amused and concerned as he assures her, “Chris said that like four years ago and even then it’s not like he really knew my type.”

Leslie scoffs again. “You’re just saying that because there’s no way that _too round and too short and almost-forty_ is your type.”

“It’s not,” Ben agrees. “But pregnant, petite, blonde, and almost-forty is exactly my type. It’s sexy.”

“It’s not. It’s uncomfortable.”

Ben snuggles down next to her and despite still being a little upset, she puts her head on his dumb and pointy and comforting shoulder, while Ben pulls the covers down to lay his palm against her round tummy.

“I’m very sorry you’re uncomfortable but this is super sexy. You are super sexy. We did this,” he says as her hand comes up to his and they join fingers across her belly. “I put babies in you.”

She smiles despite her mood, but she doesn’t respond right away. He’s playing dirty because he knows that phrase turns her on and he deserves a few seconds of not knowing if it’s working.

“We had sex and now there are babies in you. Because I fucked you. That’s super sexy. And now–”

“If you say ' _there’s more cushion for the pushin’_ I’m going to hit you with a pillow.”

Ben laughs. “No. No. I'm not going to say that. But anyway,” he pauses for emphasis, “You are my only type. The absolutely only type I want. And also, the whales look super sexy on you and anyone who wouldn’t think that is an idiot.”

She sits up to look at him and sure he kind of has to help a bit, but they manage it together. “Alright. I guess I am maybe a little sensitive about how I look right now.”

“That’s understandable,” he says nodding. “And I'm sorry it's getting uncomfortable. But you shouldn’t at all worry about my attraction for you and I hope you feel better.”

“I do.”

“I have a question though…what exactly are perky breasts?”

Leslie gives him a look. “You know, small and perky. Bouncy.”

“Hmmmm,” Ben makes a face as he reaches out to cup one of her boobs. “I think I prefer round and full.”

“Well,” she smiles at him. “That is very fortunate.”

He nods as he moves closer to give her a kiss. When he runs is fingertips across her nipple, Leslie shudders and moans against his lips.

“You put babies in me,” she tells him, pushing closer to him and damn it, her belly definitely leads the way but there’s really not all that much she can do about it.

“I did. You’re lucky I didn’t put six of them in there,” he whispers, before brushing his lips against hers again.

“Oh,” Leslie breaks away. “Well, after these ones are born we can just–”

“No,” he says, and then pulls her back down on the bed, kissing her into silence.

And, the whale pajama pants, when they come off a few minutes later, look even better on the floor.


	6. Defiling Chris's Couch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bookwormm03 prompted: Maybe like, this one weekend Ben was house sitting for Chris and things were totally going fine, and then OOPS his super sexy girlfriend came over wearing a sexy surprise and...I mean, it's a one bedroom condo. Roleplay is encouraged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! Roleplay didn't quite make it in this one...

When he opens the front door, Ben just stares at her.

To clarify, when he opens the front door of Chris’s condo, Ben makes a face and super-stares at Leslie.

He does this for a number of reasons: one–-she’s wearing a big black wide brimmed hat and a trench coat and two–-because she’s standing outside of Chris’s condo and they specifically agreed that she should not come over here while he was house sitting…for their boss.

Chris had asked last week if he’d mind keeping an eye on his place and Ben had jumped at the chance to have three whole days to himself in a stylish condo without marble-frying, midnight jam sessions, or public roleplay in the living room.

“Um…”

“Hi!” She tells him, giving him an excited and goofy grin.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a woman come visit her secret boyfriend in a new and sexy loca–”

“No,” Ben answers, cutting her off. “No. You really can’t. I thought we agreed that we should not do this here.”

“Do what?” She asks innocently, walking past him and inside.

“You know what,” he responds, shutting the door quickly behind her and then watching as she undoes the coat’s belt and let’s it drop on a chair.

Ben was kind of thinking she might be naked underneath but he’s only slightly disappointed when she’s not.

“I’m just stopping by to say hi.”

“Are you wearing fingerless gloves?”

Leslie nods and grins, wiggling her bare fingers at him. “Like what you see?”

It’s cute and ridiculous, and alright, still somehow incredibly sexy so he nods and watches as she takes off the hat next. He’s smiling at her by the time her discarded headwear ends up on the chair next to her coat.

“So, what are you doing tonight?”

“Oh, um, I just got a chicken parm and I was going to watch _Blade Runner_ ,” he answers and then can’t help himself from moving just a bit closer.

Sure, this is probably stupid but Chris is over 400 miles away at a conference in Buffalo and it’s not like he’d ever find out that Leslie was over or that she’s been Ben’s secret girlfriend for the last three weeks.

“I know this is kind of dumb, but I just wanted to see you tonight. But, you’re right, I shouldn’t be here. I can–”

“Do you want to split my chicken parm and watch _Blade Runner_ with me?” Ben asks, and then adds, “That’s something that co-workers could do together.”

Leslie takes a step closer. “By _Blade Runner_ do you mean _Fried Green Tomatoes_ and by chicken parm do you mean waffles?”

Ben laughs and takes her hand to tug her closer before giving her a kiss (definitely not something that co-workers do, but oh well). And then he adds, “No. I mean _Blade Runner_ and chicken parm.”

* * * * * *

They watch _Blade Runner_ and pause it when the washing machine goes off, so that he can put his clothes in the dryer. He explains that he brought his dirty clothes over since at home, it’s likely that someone (April) will put a banana peel in during the spin cycle.

“That doesn’t sound like something…” Leslie pauses. “Okay, never mind, that sounds exactly like something she would do.”

Ben nods and laughs and then pushes his foot against hers and unpauses the movie to watch Roy break Deckard’s fingers and Leslie moves in closer to him, practically lying on top of him. He’s managed to keep his commentary to a minimum so far and he feels like he might even make it to the end without nerding out too much.

And fine. So they are co-workers (boss and subordinate, to be technical) who snuggle on the couch and then watch all of the credits to the film, neither wanting to move away from the other.

Ben finally uses the remote to turn the TV off.

“This is a really nice condo,” Leslie says eventually, even as she wiggles against him, “It’s very neat and orderly.”

Ben snorts. “Sorry. I just, um, this is a normal amount of order. That’s all I’m going to say.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “There could be two birds, Ben. Two birds! Why does no one understand that?”

“Because it’s fairly ridiculous and a little hoardy. But cute,” he tells her but before she can get too offended he gives her a grin. And really, its not like he cares that much. He’s almost even gotten a path memorized to get up to her bedroom without bumping into stuff.

“Thank you for sharing your dinner with me,” Leslie says, before giving him a kiss.

It’s a kiss that lasts for a few minutes, and leads to smiles and sighs, and things getting pushed against other things.

Finally, he comes up for air, even though he keeps his hands on her back and starts wandering them down lower. “Thank you for sharing your emergency cookies with me,” because of course Leslie Knope travels with emergency cookies in her purse.

“We really should not do this here,” he says, seconds later, even as his hands cup her butt through her pants and she grinds down on his erection.

When she giggles in response to his squeezing, he’s kind of a goner.

Fuck.

They’re probably going to do this here. Ben takes his cell phone out of his pocket and texts Chris.

_Hi buddy! How’s the conference going?_

“What are you doing?” Leslie asks, looking confused.

“Giving him an opportunity to tell us that he decided to come home early and that he’s on his way home from the airport.”

“Oh, good idea.”

“Yeah.”

While they wait, lips find things to kiss and nibble and Ben is in the process of giving her a hickey near the top of her right breast, when his phone chirps at him.

_Hi! This is literally the best conference on City Infrastructure Best Practices that I have ever attended! I’m about to head back from dinner to the hotel right now. Miss you, buddy!_

The text is accompanied by a photo taken from dinner. Chris is surrounded by a group of middle management city employees who are all smiling and giving thumbs up.

“Awwww, he looks like he’s having fun,” Leslie says, smiling at the image.

“I think he is,” Ben agrees, “and more importantly, he’s still in Buffalo.”

“God, you’re so smart and sneaky,” she says and then maneuvers so she’s fully on top of him, leaning down into a kiss as he gets her shirt unbuttoned the rest of the way.

Ben’s just gotten Leslie’s bra pushed up and both of her breasts free, about to take a nipple into his mouth, when her voice interrupts him.

“I feel kind of bad defiling his couch.”

Ben frowns and looks up. “Do you want to move to the floor?”

“And defile the floor?”

“We could stand up and defile his wall.”

“Defile is a really sexy word,” she says breathily and then wiggles down for more kisses. “So are you sure that Deckard was a replicant?”

Ben nods. “Yeah.”

Leslie looks like she doesn’t quite believe him but then she says something about how if he was a replicant, she would still want to be with him, he smiles.

Much like that evening when he butt-dialed Ron and then starting talking like Ronald Reagan to her Maggie Thatcher and then went down on her mumbling about Ruth Bader Ginsburg, stuff…just happens.

She just happens to unzip his pants and wrap her hand around his dick and yeah, the fingerless gloves are still pretty much working for him.

Ben just happens to finger her on Chris’s couch, spreading her open and moaning at how wet she already is and then taking his time to make her even wetter.

And then she just happens to sink down on top of him and ride him, while Ben alternates between gripping her hips and playing with her clit. It’s so, so wrong to do this here, but when Leslie’s breasts in front of him and he’s buried inside her, his moral compass kind of breaks down and stops working.

When she comes and pulls him along right with her, Ben kind of forgets who Chris Traeger even is altogether.

Afterwards, he’s able to use his shirt to make sure there’s no mess (having sex on Chris’s couch is one thing, but actually leaving physical evidence behind is pretty gross). Besides, he already has one more pile of laundry to do, he can just add his t-shirt to another banana-free load.

“You’re going to stay over, right?” Ben asks, stroking her hair.

When she lifts her head up, Leslie looks surprised by the invitation. “Do you think it’s a good idea for me to sleep here?”

Ben laughs. “Probably not, but it seems pretty tame after having sex on his couch.”

“Because we absolutely can not do it in Chris’s bed,” Leslie says, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Absolutely not,” Ben agrees, already thinking, yep, they’re probably going to have cuddly forbidden morning sex in Chris’s bed.

Or, at least on the floor in his bedroom.


	7. Stomach Kiss

She kisses just above his belly button and then slides her mouth over to the side, right where she knows Ben is ticklish.

When Leslie hears him giggle up above, she laughs too, her amused noises turning into more and more sloppy open-mouthed kisses on his skin, even as she tugs his boxers down just a bit more.

They’re green and blue plaid and she still can’t believe he owns as many plaid boxers as he does.

The first night she helped him put away laundry, a couple of days after her ethics trial, she took photos of his underwear drawer and sent a picture to Ann–-LOOK HOW MUCH PLAID MY AWESOME BOYFRIEND WEARS! EVEN UNDER HIS PANTS!!!

Practically mid-text, Ben had grabbed her phone and tackled her on his bed, tickling and kissing her until her phone slipped out of her hand and fell onto the floor with a light clunk.

“Hey. Hey, you,” Ben whispers now, his fingers running slowly through her hair. “I think I might be too drunk for that. And full. Sooooo full.”

Leslie smiles against the soft hair and warm skin, before blowing a raspberry against her campaign manager’s tummy.

Then she does it again.

This sends Ben into a new round of silly drunken laughter that is completely contagious, and she joins in. They don’t even stop when April or Andy (it’s probably April), starts pounding on the wall.

“I ate two desserts,” he tells her finally, as Leslie continues to smile and nuzzle against him.

She turns on her side and rests her head on the slight rise of his carrot cake and creme brulee-filled stomach, his belly making a warm and satisfying pillow.

“I had three.”

And then they had taken a cab back to his place and had ended up on his bed–-Ben in just his boxers and socks and Leslie in her blouse and underwear.

“Jen bought us lots of drinks and desserts,“ he confirms, holding his hand down near her face. “Yeah. We showed her.”

Leslie lightly slaps his palm triumphantly. “I know! You are the best campaign manager in the whole world.”

Ben snorts and when she kisses her way back up, she fits perfectly against him.


	8. Ben and Leslie Pick the First Triplet's Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from Wafflesjunior

“Okay, this is sort of an awkward reason but…” Ben starts and then trails off, feeling a bit flustered.

“What?”

They’d given up on the white board set up in the living room an hour before and now they’re in bed, a pad of legal paper in Ben’s lap, the pen in his hand not writing down the fairly obvious name his wife had just suggested.

After learning about the sexes of the babies earlier in the day, they’d wasted no time in trying to decide on names. Like really decide on names.

Sure, they’d casually tossed around a few girl’s names before, but they were all hypotheticals and nothing had really stuck–there was Buttercup, Eleanor, Geraldine, Daenerys, and Ayra…all had not made it onto the serious list.

Tonight, they were determined to figure out what to call their daughter, tomorrow it would be the boys’ turn. Ben smiled just thinking about his children–his daughter and two sons. It still felt a little unreal but also so, so amazing.

And then he frowned because he remembered the name Leslie had just suggested.

“So…um, Hillary is the name of an old ex-girlfriend in college, so that’s maybe–”

“Hillary Clinton was your ex-girlfriend?” Leslie practically screeches out.

He blinks confusedly and studies his wife. His extra-hormonal, sleepy, beautiful, easily-excited, and clearly exhausted wife. “No. I…seriously? She’s like twenty years older than I am.”

“She could have been a visiting professor and you were…oh, an innocent, studious young man away from home for the first time, while she was a mature, experienced–”

“No! No. I’m going to um, stop this right there. Besides, she was actually First Lady when I was in college and also married. Babe, I promise that I have never slept with Hillary Clinton and honestly, if I had, I would have told you by now.”

“Alright,” she nods.

Ben figures at some point, he’s going to be role playing as himself, while Leslie is Hillary Clinton. He almost manages to hold back an amused but also slightly disturbed laugh.

“But still, it feels a little weird, so I’d like to veto that one.”

“Fine.”

“How about Ripley?” He asks, giving her a little smile.

Leslie makes a face like she’s trying to think of the significance and not quite putting it together. “What is–”

“Aliens. You know, Sigourney Weaver’s character. She was awesome and basically kicked all kinds of ass and–”

“Oh, right. Hmmmm. Maybe. Let’s write it down but keep brainstorming,” Leslie suggests and then tries to yawn discreetly. “I still think Ann is a wonderful name.”

Ben chooses his words carefully. “It is, but don’t you think that might get a little confusing? We can definitely use Ann for a middle name though.”

Leslie seems to agree and he watches as she looks down and studies the paper.

The current names include Abigail, Ann, Ruth (also one that Ben thinks would make a better middle name-–along with Bader and Ginsburg, two more of her suggestions), and now Ripley. There’s also Stephanie for his sister and Laverne for Laverne of Laverne and Shirley.

“I like the Supreme Court justice angle,” she says. “Ruth of course and then Elena, Sandra, Sonia.”

Ben quirks his head. “Actually, Sonia is kind of interesting.”

“Really? I thought maybe you wouldn’t like it,” she tells him with the beginnings of a grin on her face.

“Why?”

“I don’t know…it’s kind of different.”

“It is, but it’s pretty. Like, I just picture a little girl who ice skates and loves animals.”

“Or who grows up to sit on the supreme court,” Leslie adds and then yawns again, this time not at all discreetly.

“Or that too,” Ben agrees, smiling at his wife before writing the name Sonia down and adding a little star next to it.

Leslie takes the legal pad and draws an arrow from Sonia to Ann and then looks at him, tears already in her eyes. “Sonia Ann Knope-Wyatt.”

“I think…yeah,” he nods, “Sonia Ann Knope-Wyatt.” They seal the first triplet name with a smile-filled kiss and then Ben moves down lower, so that he can talk right to her belly.

“Hi Sonia, it’s daddy. We think we have a name for you. Say hi to your brothers. We love you all,” he says and then kisses Leslie’s stomach once, twice, and then a third time.

When he moves back up, his wife looks happy and content, but she’s also clearly asleep and already snoring.


	9. Snugbug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Can I request a morphine Ben cuddling fic?!

“Are you doing okay?”

Leslie’s pretty sure he is, he’s not humming songs she can’t identify anymore, by bands she’s never heard of or telling her how much he likes her breasts (a lot, apparently, but then of course she kind of already knew that), but Ben is still awake and curled up next to her in the motel’s surprisingly comfortable bed.

“I’m good, snugbug.”

She smiles at his new pet name for her.

“Hey, we should compost,” Ben says and then pauses, making a confused face. “That’s when you put your food in a special garbage can, right?”

Leslie frowns and then jumps slightly when Ben pushes his still-chilly toes against her bare calves.

“And then use it in your garden?” He adds, squinting at her just a bit.

“I think so.” She sort of remembers there being a composting class at the rec center last year–not that she took it or anything but it sounds familiar. It has something to do with food you don’t eat and food you want to grow.

“We need a garden,” Ben adds, nodding. “We can grow turnips and zucchini.”

“Why?” Leslie asks, making just a bit of a face. “Who would eat–”

“The universe,” Ben whispers back, moving closer to her and snuggling his face into her neck. “We would grow food for the universe. Oh! Hello ear,” he says, sounding happily surprised that he has a wife with ears. Then he gives her earlobe a soft little kiss.

It tickles and she’s still smiling when she agrees that yes, they could grow food for the universe if he wants to (she’s assuming that when the pills wear off, Ben will be fine buying his food at the store again like a normal person).

“I remember my mom had a garden and there were sunflowers and when I was little I planted popcorn kernels and they grew into popcorn plants.”

“Really?”

He pulls back nods earnestly. “We could grow popcorn plants because I know you don’t like turnips and zucchini.”

“That might be fun for movie night.”

“My parents fought a lot,” he adds a few seconds later, back when he’s cuddled into her, his breath warm on her skin as he talks.

“I’m sorry, honey.”

When she turns to kiss his forehead, Ben’s hair is all messy and sticking up in all directions and his eyes look a little unfocused and right now, he’s kind of like a big man-child with an out of order penis, but Leslie doesn’t think she’s ever loved him more.

“When we grow our baby plants, we shouldn’t fight in front of them.”

“We won’t,” Leslie assures him, still a bit surprised that one of the first times they actually discuss having a family, Ben is so out of it on pain pills.

“We should just kiss and hug and teach them about composting,” he finishes his words with a yawn, wrapping his arms around her even tighter, before adding, “Goodnight snugbug. Goodnight ear.”


	10. The Taxman Cometh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: what do you think is honestly happening at the Knope - Wyatt household in April 2016 ?

“So, do you think you can help me?” The attractive blonde asks, staring at him with her big, blue eyes.

She takes a seat across the table from Ben and continues to look at him expectantly.

He glances down at the messy stack of papers in front of him and sighs with slight exaggeration. “And these are all your receipts?”

She nods and Ben watches as Leslie seductively bites her bottom lip a little. Nice touch. “That’s everything, Mr. Sexy Tax Accountant.”

He holds back a grin. “You know, you really should have come to me sooner. It’s already April 15th and even with the extended deadline of the 18th, this is cutting it pretty close, Ms. Knope.”

“I’m so, so sorry. Is there going to be some kind of… _penalty_?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” he says, making sure to use the Mean Ben tone that he knows turns her on. “It’s certainly a possibility.”

“Mmmmmmmm…” is her only response. And her response is causing him to have his own response. In his pants.

Leslie moves a little closer and leans across the table giving him an eyeful of cleavage.

He’s a professional, but it’s hard to ignore her heaving bosom, barely sheathed beneath the little black dress she’s wearing.

Ben clears his throat lightly and moves on for now, thoughts of touching her or applying any penalties, pushed down for a bit. “I’m not sure I can deduct all of these JJ’s Diner breakfasts.”

“They were working breakfasts with my husband. Official business meetings. And we did not at all sit on the same side of the booth and cuddle.”

Ben holds in a laugh. “Are you sure about that?”

He watches Leslie shakes her head slowly while grinning. “And those are all my donation receipts.”

“I can definitely do something with those,” he glances through the familiar pile of their yearly donations. “Wheels for Meals on Wheels, the Sweetums Foundation, Raccoon Habitat for Humanity…” he trails off only a few in and then smiles when he feels his wife’s toes press against his calf under the table.

They play footsie for a bit while he does some minor calculations. Ben makes some notes and adjusts his accounting visor, all while Leslie’s foot inches up slowly. When her toes brush lightly against the front of his pants he moans before looking up at her.

But instead of a seductive look she’s making a confused face at him.

“Babe, are you sure you don’t want to use software for this?”

At her question, Ben frowns and then reaches forward to place his hands on the sides of his calculator. “Don’t listen to her, Dr. Buttons. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.” Then to Leslie he adds, “Why would I want to do that?”

“Okay. Okay. I get it. You’re a numbers robot. A cute numbers robot whose pants are getting tighter.”

“Well, yes. There is a new development happening down–”

Her laughter cuts him off. Ben smiles too, but quickly adds, “Shhhhh, honey, you’ll wake daddy’s little tax credits upstairs.”

They’d just gotten the triplets down about an hour ago and although he’s always up for an excuse to hold and cuddle his kids, right now he’s got work to do.

“You know, if we got busy and had another one, it’d be another $1000 off our taxes next year,” she tells him in a whisper.

Ben looks up. “You know that the tax credit is $1000 per child?”

He’s surprised and turned on and when she nods, he grins back at her.

Then he watches as she gets up quickly and walks over to his side of the table. Ben pushes his chair back and she’s in his lap seconds later.

“Oh my god, I am so attracted to you right now,” he tells her, grabbing her face and pulling her closer.

She smells like the triplets’ bath time and chocolate and the reassuring feel of her weight in his lap makes him feel protective and in love and amused and amazed and a hundred different emotions all at once–how he always feels around his wife.

“I know you are,” Leslie tells him and then her lips are on his, her hands up by the back of his neck.

They kiss for awhile. Leisurely, unrushed kisses that turn more and more passionate as she wiggles around, straddling in his lap. The tie holding her wraparound dress together quickly comes undone (because he unties it) and the hot pink lacy bra matched with the dark cotton panties with little ice cream cones on them make him laugh and feel even more attracted to his sexy, goofball wife.

He runs his fingers along the waistband, unable to resist gently wiggling a finger lower, into her belly button while she squirms around and tries not to cackle too loudly.

When Leslie recovers from his attack, she asks, “So, you wanna make a new little tax credit?”

Ben goes in for one quick nose rub before shutting that idea down. He’s pretty sure she’s joking, but just in case. “No. No more babies. Nice try, though.”

Leslie sighs and attempts to get up but he holds her in place by her hips, his thumbs rubbing little patterns on her skin.

“Don’t you have to finish the taxes?”

“Oh. I did that last week. I filed electronically already. We’re all good.”

“Refund?”

“Yep,” Ben nods proudly.

She smiles at him. “Do you want a cookie to celebrate?”

“I’d rather have ice cream,” he says, pushing up a bit and grinding against the crotch of her panties as she pulls the visor off and tosses it across the room.

It lands somewhere over by the couch. Ben’s not sure, his face is kind of buried between her breasts now.

“Hey. Instead of going upstairs, do you wanna stay down here and do it in front of Dr. Buttons?”

Oh god, that’s so wrong. Ben looks from his wife to his calculator, just sitting there innocently on the table.

But then Leslie reaches back and undoes the clasp on her bra and his fingers are up touching her nipples and making her moan before he can even give it a second thought.

“Yes. Yes. Alright. Let’s do it in front of Dr. Buttons. Sorry Dr. Buttons.”


	11. We Can Do This

She does not want to do this.

The room is hot and it feels like she’s got bricks lying on her lower stomach and she’s tired. Leslie is very tired.

Also her legs are spread apart and people are looking at her. _Down there_.

“Push again.”

“I can’t,” she says turning her head to look at Ben. “I can’t. I can’t do this. I think we need to stop this and–”

“Honey, it’s okay,” he says and then he brushes some hair off her forehead.

Ben’s lips are cool on her skin when he kisses her there. It’s probably because she’s all sweaty with exertion.

“But you have to,” he adds. Ben squeezes her hand reassuringly.”Just one more push and we can have a baby. Three babies, maybe four.”

Before she can get too confused over that, another voice interrupts her thoughts. “Come on cupcake, one more push.”

When she looks back to the front, Tom is standing behind Dr. Saperstein. And…Dr. Saperstein has different hair. It’s all sticking up and…oh no.

No.

“Leslie Knope. _Leslie-Leslie Knope-Knope. Pushin’ it good, pushin’ it real good_ –”

“Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. No. Ben make this stop,” she turns again and is grasping on to him and trying to get her feet out of the stirrups. Besides, wasn’t she supposed to have a Cesarean? This doesn’t make any sense. “Ben. Ben. You do this. Please? I don’t want to do this anymore. I–”

“Okay, I can give it a try for a bit. Would that help? Leslie? Hey, wake up.”

Dream-Ben is shaking her. “Wake up.”

Then she does just that with a start and Ben (real-Ben) is looking at her, all concerned and thank god, they’re at home in their living room and oh yes, she’s wearing pants and her feet are in his lap, not spread open for an audience.

“Ben!”

“Are you okay?” He looks worried as he pulls the afghan off her lower body and tries to help her sit up.

“Ben! Oh my god, Ben, that was a horrible dream.” And then she’s clinging to him just like she was moments ago. But again, now she’s wearing pants and Tom and Jean-Ralphio are no where to be seen.

So, she already feels better.

He surrounds her in a hug and pushes hair off her face and kisses her temple reassuringly just like when she was having three (four?) dream-babies.

Ben is whispering that it’s okay and that he’s got her and maybe he would just agree to hold her like this for rest of the night until she can shake the feelings in her head. The not being able to do it and everything just feeling all wrong.

The Jean-Ralphio and Tom delivering her babies.

“It was so real.” Leslie shudders. “It was so real and it was so horrible. I couldn’t do it.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. It was just a dream. What was–”

“Ugh, we were having the babies. But it was a vaginal birth and Dr. Saperstein turned into Jean-Ralphio and Tom was there. His surgical mask said Baller Time on it.”

“Good lord.” His hand is rubbing little circles on her back.

“Yeah. And I couldn’t do it and they kept telling me to push and I didn’t want to push and I really did not want Tom or Jean-Ralphio near my vagina and oh, I asked you if you could take over and you said you would.”

“Wow, dream me is sweet,” Ben says, smiling at her, but keeping his touches warm and comforting.

She laughs a little and feels her nightmare slip away just a bit. “Dream-you also maybe does not have the best grasp of biology.”

Ben shakes his head. “True. But, I would if I could. You know, help with all of the physical stuff you’re going through.”

“I know.”

“And I promise you that I will not let Jean-Ralphio or Tom anywhere near your vagina over the next few months.”

“Thank you,” she says, nuzzling into his neck. “That can just be a general rule like, forever. Not just while I’m pregnant.”

“Yes. And everything is going to be okay.”

“Yes,” Leslie agrees, as his fingers entwine with hers.

Of course everything is going to be okay. She has him. And he has her. And they both have the babies.

She pulls her hand up so that their hands are resting against her belly.

“And you can do this. We can do this,” Ben tells her.

“We can do this.”


	12. An Apology Type Situation

“You used all my shaving cream on Wreston, didn’t you?”

Leslie groans when Ben walks into the living room and then ends up standing in front of her while she stays seated on the couch.

“I was just in the middle of telling him how forgiving of a person you are, when you decided to give him a shaving cream hat. And also, now I guess I’ll have to grow a beard.”

She laughs despite still feeling a bit rotten about everything.

“Move over, goofball.”

Leslie does, even though their couch is big and Ben could sit anywhere besides between her and the arm of the sofa. But, she doesn’t mind, she likes to be pressed up right next to him.

“He apologized?”

“Yes. Profusely and very graciously. And he fired those idiots who made that insulting prank-park.”

“So I should go apologize again?” It’s not really a question even though she frames it like one.

“Um, yeahhhhhh,” Ben answers. Leslie doesn’t even have to look at him to know that he’s making a face. “I think that’s kind of in order, babe. At least you’ve had some practice at it now. It should only take fifteen minutes this time.”

“Very funny. And you’re sure we can’t just set his house on fire instead?”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure this is more of an apology-type situation than an arson-type one.”

“Crap. Okay. Fine I’ll go apologize to Wreston for squirting shaving cream all over his face and neck. I can’t believe I have to drive to Eagleton again. That’s ridiculous, Ben! He should drive over here!”

Her husband is just staring at her, raising his eyebrows and then giving her his best serious look. She tries to counter with her resolve face, but she looses her resolve pretty quickly. He’s right of course. And really, she does feel bad about attacking the man with all of Ben’s shaving cream.

She leans over and gives her fiance a kiss. “I’ll be back in a bit. And then maybe we can play some Connect Four when I get back. I’ll need to work off some feelings of contempt and aggression after spending some more time _you-know-where_.”

“Sounds good. I’ll make a pizza and open up some wine. Oh and hey,” Ben starts, just as she gets up and starts trudging towards the front door. “See what he has going on in May, we should really invite him to the wedding.”

She turns back and stares at Ben. “What is you obsession with…nope. You know what? Never mind. Babe, if you want to invite Wreston St James to our wedding, I’ll invite him to the wedding.”

Leslie walks back to the couch and tugs on Ben’s shoulder until he stands up.

“I love you but it’s weird that he reminds you of Bono.”

“I love you too and no it’s not. Now go apologize.”

Ugh, she thinks, even as she’s kissing Ben goodbye and his hands are wrapping around her hips (a decidedly very un-ugh thing to do), driving Eagleton is just the worst. Admitting she made a mistake is the worst too.

Maybe she’ll stop on the way first and at least get some ice cream.

“And please pick me up another can of shaving cream while you’re out,” he requests, pressing his lips against hers again.


	13. Ann and Leslie Talk on Skype

Instead of hitting WebMD or a site like that, as soon as she and Ben get home from her doctor’s appointment, Leslie opens up her laptop and gets on Skype with Ann.

Ben had even suggested that she talk to Ann, giving her a kiss as soon as they walked in the door and heading upstairs. So, she’s quickly sitting at the dining room table talking with her friend before she even gets her jacket off.

“Ann. Ann. A c-section! Dr. Saperstein thinks I’ll probably end up having one of those. Does that sound right to you? Should I get a second opinion? Ann, what should I do?”

Her best friend looks at her from the laptop screen. “I’m not too surprised. You are over 35 and it’s a multiple birth, that’s a fairly common reason for the procedure.”

Leslie makes a disappointed face, as she rubs her five month old babies’ bump. “But I kind of wanted to experience, you know, actually pushing them out myself. Do it the normal way. With my vagina.”

Ann laughs. “Leslie, any way you give birth is the normal way for you. Besides, it’s not like a vaginal birth is a big, fun party.”

“Yeah, but–”

“It hurts. It’s exhausting. Your legs are spread open for hours and everyone is just down there all the time, and oh–you’d probably poop in front of everyone while pushing, including Ben. But you know,” Ann adds, “the miracle of birth and everything.”

Leslie frowns, mulling all that over. “Huh.”

Ann nods. “Yeah. I mean, Chris was an amazing coach and I loved having Oliver and his whole birth experience was magical, but…there’s not just one right way to do it, and if Dr. Saperstein thinks a c-section is safer, that’s probably what you should do.”

“What if I pushed one out, and then had him cut the other two–”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, even if you could get the doctor to go along with that, then you’d be healing from both procedures at the same time, while trying to take care of three babies.”

“Okay. Fine. Maybe not. But I reserve the right to try and do it that way.”

“Leslie, it’ll be fine no matter how it happens,” Ann assures her, smiling. “You’ll go through this life-changing experience and then you’ll have your babies.”

“I know. Of course. It’s just not what I imagined.”

Leslie figured she’d push them all out in a few minutes, Ben clutching her hand and wiping her brow lovingly. And, maybe the hospital would even give her a medal for being the best at it. But surgery? “It makes me a little nervous.”

Ann nods. “I understand. But it’s a very safe surgical procedure. They’ll give you an epidural or a spinal block, so you won’t feel anything and you can have a support person there with you the whole time, so–”

“Oh! You’ll be there with me?” Leslie asks excitedly and then rethinks that. “Oh, wait, no. That should probably be Ben. He is the father.”

“Yeah,” Ann nods, making a face. “Yeah. But, of course Chris and Oliver and I will come down and I’ll be there afterwards to help.”

“Okay. And hey, I think I read once before that after a cesarean delivery, it’s possible to have a vaginal birth for your next baby? Is that true?” Leslie asks. “So we could just–”

“Wait. What now?” Ben asks, coming up behind his wife and looking just a bit concerned.


	14. Ben is bad at camping

Leslie watches as Ben sets up a line of their things inside her tent–-bags, shoes, books–-in front of the zippered flap.

“And that’s for…?”

“Early bear warning system,” he responds, turning around and giving her a grin.

“Babe, there hasn’t been a bear sighting in Indiana since 1871. And we’re just talking docile black bears here, not ferocious grizzly bears.”

Ben gives her a look. “A black bear is still a bear. That counts. And also, who is keeping track of this? They could have missed a couple. I just…want to know about it if a bear is going to come in here and try to eat me for dinner.”

Leslie takes his hand and tugs him back towards her and the two sleeping bags she’s zipped together for them. He’s the sweetest boyfriend…but he’s really bad at camping. She is honestly still a little surprised she managed to talk him into this. Leslie shares this observation with him as they snuggle into the warm, plaid bedding.

“I’m bad at camping, huh?”

She nods, unable to hold in a giggle. “A little bit. But it’s cute. And don’t worry, if a bear tries to come into my tent, I’ll protect you.”

Ben smirks and quickly rolls them over so he’s the one on top. Leslie’s legs automatically spread open and wrap up around his hips even though they both have flannel pajama pants on.

“ _I’ll_ protect you from bears. You’ll just have to tell me how to do it,” he requests, sounding all relaxed and nuzzling into her neck.

She’s full on laughing now, especially when Ben starts blowing raspberries against her skin, right under her ear. The spot that usually makes her foot start to twitch when he kisses and licks there.

Leslie recovers enough to gasp out, “Bear spray.”

When his head shoots up, she knows what he’s going to ask before he even opens his mouth. “No, we don’t have any bear spray. Because there hasn’t been a bear sighting in Indiana since 1871.”

Ben groans. “Okay, I will protect you with our non-existent bear spray and…” he pauses and looks at her.

“Yelling and making a lot of noise,” Leslie coaches.

“Right. Yelling and making a lot of noise. I’ll do that. And stand between you and the bear,” he says, rocking his hips into hers lightly. “Any bear would have to go through me to get to you.”

“Ohhhhhhh, really?”

She doesn’t think she’s every had a boyfriend before that would put himself in front of a bear about to attack her before. Sure, Dave could probably have just taken out his gun and shot the bear, but that doesn’t really seem fair, Leslie thinks. Or  on the same level as Ben is offering.

“No bear is eating you on my watch, candidate Knope.”

“Thank you.” He gets a kiss as a reward and he still tastes like their s'mores and that just makes Leslie moan all the more.

Ben gets her t-shirt pulled up and his lips wrap around a nipple. The early Spring temperature, as well as his tongue, are making her the tips of her breasts all hard and the next time he pushes into her, she can feel him right there against her inner thigh.

“Your penis seems to like camping.”

“My penis likes you regardless of the situation,” Ben answers, before adding a “goofball” onto the end of his sentence.

She still can’t believe that just a few months ago, she thought all of this was over. That she was so desperately trying to hold onto him even as a friend, that she almost drove him away completely. And now he’s her boyfriend and her campaign manager and he’s currently sliding his hands into her pajama pants.

Leslie’s not wearing underwear, so he spreads her open and fingers her that much faster.

Making out with Ben always gets her wet easily and she thinks she’s still got one pajama pant leg on down around her ankle when he finally pushes inside. It’s slow and languid and it all feels so good. It’s perfect camp-fucking–-warm, cuddly, and surrounded by nature and a chill in the air.

They have the almost-deserted campground practically to themselves, so neither is very concerned with being too loud. Not that they’re all that noisy, but Ben is moaning every other thrust and she’s just letting whatever noises want to come out of her mouth, come out of her mouth.

She shifts her legs up higher and their kisses get a little sloppier as Ben hits this really great angle that makes her thighs quiver and her gasp out with each jolt of his hips.

The build up is slow and steady and when Leslie comes it’s more powerful than she expects. It also keeps going on and on, and then he’s right there, thrusting hard and fast and emptying himself into her with a loud groan.

“I really like camping with you,” Ben whispers eventually, still wrapped around her. His fingers are entwined with hers and he’s still inside and Leslie just feels so settled and warm.

“But you’re looking forward to getting back to the car tomorrow, right?”

Ben smiles and nods, before kissing along her jaw and rolling them onto their sides. “Alright, yes, I like camping, but I actually like indoor plumbing more.”


End file.
